by Margherita Bruni
Retablo is a Peruvian design studio focused on creating modular, handcrafted furniture that fosters an intimate bond with its users, one that goes beyond mere functionality.
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There is a common goal in the world of design, one that transcends tastes and trends: the desire to connect design with the most emotional and intuitive aspects of the human experience. We might consider it as a strategy – if we may define it as such – for turning products into unforgettable objects, pieces whose value, far from being merely economic, makes them feel irreplaceable. And in doing so, it offers a way to slow down overproduction and the excessive creation of unnecessary waste.
Retablo is a Peruvian design studio led by Mara Calle, Rosse Paraguay, Silvia Castillo and Edith Arana, that deeply believes in this vision. In fact, it’s the very outcome they most hope to see in the future of design. Deeply rooted in its origins—marked by craftsmanship, raw materials, and a strong connection to matter—Retablo creates furniture that strips away complex superstructures, returning to simplicity as essence, as the deliberate removal of the superfluous.
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Collaboration with artisans is a fundamental and non-negotiable part of their work, an essential support that also reveals something unique and intriguing about the studio: its connection to poetry. “There is poetry in making things with your hands,” they tell us in the interview featured in this piece. And it’s true; there is poetry in working with materials by hand, and in the inevitable bond this process creates between the object and its maker. An evolving poem delivered to the end users, empowering them to shape its next verses through their personal path.
We had an in-depth conversation with Edith Arana, co-founder of Retablo, in an interview that inspired us on many levels, opening up fascinating parallels between the composition of materials and the composition of verses, between poetry and design.
What is the story behind RETABLO? Could you tell us a little about it?
Edith Arana:
Retablo was officially launched in July 2020, but it was born a bit earlier, when I was still working at an architecture and design studio. At night, after dinner, I would sit in front of the computer and work on imaginary projects — free exercises that helped me find my own voice. I named that project Retablo, inspired by the wooden boxes with compartments that display different scenes. That’s how I imagined interior design: as a space where stories are told.
In 2020, the context gave me the push to turn that project into reality. I received a call from master carpenter Julio Mautino, who told me: “Edith, there’s no work, what do you say we try this — you design and I build?” I didn’t think twice, and that’s how we began.
What values do you seek to communicate through your design?
Edith Arana:
I love design that makes the essence behind objects visible. Design that sees with openness and sensitivity, and dignifies every part: the client, the material, the artisan, the designer. Design that takes care of what is small, honest, simple, handmade — what has the power to transcend.
You define your design as “simple.” A simplicity that highlights the excellent craftsmanship behind your products, and that relates to the essence of things. Is that correct? What meaning does this “simplicity” hold for you? For me, simplicity doesn’t need a long explanation to be understood or appreciated. It speaks for itself — you can see it, you can feel it. It’s about removing what is superfluous, what creates noise. I once heard that beauty is truth; if that’s true, then the more truthful a design is, the more beautiful and timeless it will be.
How does Peru’s cultural heritage find its way into your projects?
Edith Arana:
Peru is our engine and reason. We were born from its roots: access to raw materials, the lack of industry that sparks the ingenuity of artisans, the need to invent our own paths, constant trial and error. In 2024, seeking inspiration, we looked inward — not outward — and turned our gaze to the past. From that came the Formativo project, which marks the beginning of our exploration into pre-Columbian cultures. We started with Chavín, the origin of a high ancestral culture, which influenced those that followed.
The Chavín invite us to connect with our senses and step into mystery. For our first exploration, we delved into animism and endowed our furniture with an anima. A chair is a chair, but can also become a special object — capable of creating an emotional bond. In 2025, for Salone Satellite, we presented Modular Falcónidas, inspired by the portal of a Chavín temple. The design has two bodies: the left, in natural cachimbo wood; the right, in black-dyed huayruro.
This duality is both aesthetic and symbolic: two opposing forces integrated into one form. The rotated shelves on the left break from furniture’s traditional rigidity, allowing freer interaction with space. Our search goes beyond furniture — into illustration, children’s games, and animation — exploring new ways to unite the ancestral and the contemporary.
Collaborating with artisan carpenters is essential in bringing your products to life. What do you see as the added value of this collaboration?
Edith Arana:
They are our great companions on this journey. We learn and grow together. Most master carpenters learned their craft directly: by watching, practicing, and inheriting knowledge from their elders — master to apprentice, uncle to nephew — almost always within a family environment. It is only natural that they feel a deep affection for their work and for the nobility of wood. We seek to honor that bond by maintaining balance between all parties: respecting time, caring for the process, and nurturing the relationship with those who make it possible for each piece to come to life.
Wood is a predominant material in your creations, a warm element that, in your latest works, you’ve decided to pair with colder ones such as steel and stone. What has been the result of this combination? How do these materials interact with one another?
Edith Arana:
This year, we are exploring new dialogues between materials. We want wood to converse with steel and stone, adding contrasts and textures that enrich both the visual and tactile experience. From this search, two new pieces were born — the beginning of a series of modular shelves with a very distinct character: a balanced fusion between the natural and the industrial, where each material enhances the other.
How did the idea of transforming your product catalog into a book of poetry come about?
Edith Arana:
For some time, we had kept a phrase very close to us: “There is poetry in making things with your hands,” because it reflects the sensitivity with which we approach each project and the way we carry it out. Over time, we understood that this relationship between poetry and design is, in fact, the essence of Retablo.
That’s why we decided to turn our catalog into a poetry book — so that each piece could be read and felt like a poem. Finally, we shortened the phrase and kept: “Retablo, there is poetry in…”
Do you see a parallel between composing and shaping matter to create products, and composing and shaping verses to create poetry?
Edith Arana:
To answer, I’ll share the text we created when we launched this new stage:
Like a poem
That is how we want our furniture to be:
They speak softly, yet say so much.
Simple, yet profound.
They inhabit their space with quiet dignity.
Brief, yet unforgettable.
Like a verse that doesn’t need to shout to stay with you.
Modularity is another essential element of your pieces, and design as a whole seems to be moving strongly in this direction. Why do you think that is? Do you see it as a response to individual needs or to broader social changes?
Edith Arana:
Modularity at Retablo was born in a very specific context: the pandemic. At that time, furniture needed to be easy to transport, simple to assemble, and adaptable to different spaces. From our very first month, clients started requesting customizations. What started as a single type of shelving began taking new forms — desks, room dividers — thanks to constant exchange with them and questions like: “What if…?”
Additionally, having our furniture be disassemblable has a strong practical value: it reduces transport costs, eliminates the need to hire large moving trucks, and allows clients to take their furniture with them — even to a new country — and reassemble it themselves or with minimal help.
What do you think the future of design will look like? And how do you see Retablo positioned within that future?
Edith Arana:
If you had asked me this question some time ago, I probably would have been afraid to answer it. Today, after a process of searching and reflection, I dare to say that the future of design will have to give us back something we are losing: our deep relationship with objects.
I recently read Non-Things by Byung-Chul Han, a book that made me rethink the place objects occupy in our lives. He speaks of “beloved things”: objects we don’t just use, but that accompany us, root us, and give us identity.
In a world saturated with information and disposable products, I feel that we need those objects more than ever — the chair you work on every day, the table that gathers your family, the armchair where your grandmother rests. I see the future of Retablo there: in creating beloved things, designed with awareness and made with care, so they remain and silently accompany us, bearing witness to our short journey through life.